“You will marry an artist –
One whose fame will spread far and wide,
Across the earth and the heavens.
He will be the undisputable master of his art,
Conjuring up fantasies from the five elements,” said the old sorceress
Gazing awkwardly at my pale, awestruck face.
Years later, fate conspired with nature
And summoned them to his royal court.
We became Man and Wife
In a world obsessed with hypocrisy, pomp and pageantry.
In the ensuing drama of time and space,
You acted out your part
With the consummate skills of a theatre artist.
An artist unparalleled;
Your slim, nimble fingers
Caressed my curves
And sketched mighty seas, oceans and rivers
On the fragile canvas of my being.
For my pleasure,
You made exotic garlands of clay,
Which upon the slightest touch,
Turned in to a delightful bouquet of flowers.
With your cool, scented breath,
You blew away the remnants of the past
That lingered in every atom of my soul.
You even embellished it with a silver quilt
Woven from the infinite mirages of the Sahara.
You wrote lengthy verses for me
In the vast blue skies –
In a language that was other-worldly, undecipherable
And out of bounds for mortals.
The world worshipped you,
Hailed you as a prophet,
A master craftsman, a genius of our times,
An iconic philosopher…
Even Time paused momentarily in its flight
To witness your final, magnificent feat.
Finally, to please one and all,
You built the hall of thousand mirrors
From the eternal fire of the heavens.
The press described it as “the greatest work of mankind.”
However, I, your devoted wife,
Felt that something was badly amiss –
Each piece of glass reflected your mysterious self,
Your fiery temper, your gargantuan ego…
Perhaps, it lacked the sixth element
That I had always discreetly craved for –